


And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight

by Lesatha



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Blood, M/M, alternate version of the battle, some violence but nothing too graphic, spoilers for 2x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesatha/pseuds/Lesatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torstein falls during a fight but Athelstan will defend him no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know if this counts as an AU. At least, it is an alternate version of the battle in Kattegat. In this version, *spoilers ahead* they didn't fake Torstein's death.
> 
> Title from Another love, by Tom Odell.

“Deliver us from evil.”

Athelstan pushes himself off the wall and charges on Horik’s men. Fighting – and killing – again isn’t as hard as he thought it would be. His hands don’t hurt, or at least he’s too caught in the fire of the battle to feel them, and killing Horik’s men… well, they just want to slaughter his family. It’s as simple as that.

Once he is done with his opponents, Athelstan decides to head towards the great hall. Ragnar will need everyone here, soon. He crosses the streets quickly, spotting isolated groups of fighters here and there. It looks like they could win against Horik’s but there is only one way to guarantee this victory.  
Just when Athelstan quickens his pace, ready to swing his axes, he hears a pained scream. Actually, he heard dozens of pained screams tonight. But this one belongs to a voice he knows too well. The voice of a man he wished he would never hear screaming like this.

“Torstein!”

Athelstan hopes that he goes in the right direction and rushes on his left between two houses. Torstein seemed to be close, he shouldn’t be wrong… he is not. The young man stops abruptly. There is a man standing with his back turned to him. And lying to his feet, Torstein. For a second, Athelstan can’t think. Like his brain, or his heart, can’t process what is possibly happening there. Then he screams and simultaneously throws an axe towards the warrior. He isn’t far and the street is narrow, he can’t miss him. The axe hits the man between his shoulder blades. He tries to turn around to see who hit him, but never makes it and falls in a heap on the floor.

Athelstan goes to him and takes his axe from his back. He is horrified to hear a pained grunt when he does – the warrior is still alive. He would have preferred to kill him with one blow but he’s already bleeding to death. It will be quick. Athelstan quickly checks his surroundings. There is no other enemy here but they are in a dead-end, on a small place between houses and stables. Athelstan rushes to Torstein. He drops his axes and kneels at his side, not sure if he can touch him. The Viking is lying on his back and the large wound crossing his chest is impossible to miss.

“Torstein” Athelstan whispers.

Torstein grunts and blinks several times before he manages to open his eyes.

“Priest.” He coughs. “I knew they should never underestimate you.”

“Shh. Don’t talk, you’re badly wounded.”

Athelstan can’t see how deep the wound is. His only light comes from a roof on fire and the blood mixing with the clothes makes it hard to distinguish anything.

“I know it will hurt but I have to move you. If someone comes here, we will have no way to escape.”

Torstein shakes his head weakly.

“You are a brave man Athelstan but this time there is nothing you can do…”

Athelstan’s eyes start watering uncontrollably and a few tears roll on his cheeks. He angrily wipes them off and leans closer to Torstein, stroking his forehead.

“Don’t say another word!” His voice his shaking and he hates himself for it. “I will just hide you somewhere and –”

Torstein brings a hand up, big enough to cover the side of Athelstan’s face. The young man distantly notices that Torstein’s hand is covered with blood. The Viking is pale and breathing seems to pain him now. More tears roll on Athelstan’s face.

“I am too heavy for you, Athelstan. I would slow you down. You would die, trying to protect a man who will die soon.”

“Stop it!” Athelstan clutches at the hand still on his face. “That’s my point, idiot, I would die protecting you!”

He should lower his voice, he knows he should. But it is impossible. Despair invades him, and fear too. The fear to lose a man dear to his heart.

Torstein smiles and closes his eyes, his hand sliding slowly down Athelstan’s face, leaving a distorted bloody handprint behind. His arm falls flatly on Athelstan’s knees and panic suddenly joins despair.

“No, Torstein!” Please, open your eyes, please please – don’t”

He moves behind Torstein and crouches to grab him under his armpits, hoisting him up to his chest. God, the man is right. He weighs a lot.

“Please, don’t give up. Don’t leave me.”

His voice barely reaches above a whisper. He tries to find a way to hold Torstein, to no avail. He can’t even stop crying.

“Please don’t leave me.”

When he moved to grab Torstein, Athelstan ended up facing the street, so he immediately sees the two warriors who stop there and cautiously walk in their direction. Never tearing his eyes off them, Athelstan quickly retreats back against a wall, dragging Torstein with him. He lets Torstein there and rushes forward to pick his axes off the ground. The warriors are in front of him now. He takes a few steps backwards to place himself in front of Torstein and raises his axes as a warning. Horik’s men exchange a look. They seem to be surprised, but also deeply amused. The biggest one, with a black flourishing beard, cocks his head to the side.

“What do you think you’re doing, Christian?”

Athelstan tightens his grip around his axes.

“Go away now, or I kill you both.” At least, his voice isn’t shaking anymore. But he sniffs miserably and it’s even worse.

The second warrior takes a step closer.

“Back off!”

“I would love to see you trying to kill us” the man taunts, smiling at Black Beard. “But we are to kill everyone loyal to Ragnar. So…” he points at Torstein. “That includes him.”

Black Beard eyes Athelstan up and down with disdain.

“And you. His dog.”

Athelstan snarls. He plants his feet firmer in the ground, preparing himself for the blows to come.

“Although,” the second soldier adds, “I admit you are the kind of dog I would keep chained up in front of my house. Alas, the King’s orders.”

“Take one more step and you’ll regret it” Athelstan warns.

They just laugh and attack him, almost moving like one single man. Athelstan barely has time to block their hits and he is thankful he has his two axes. If he could move around, he would still have a chance to win. He is smaller, but also faster. Yet, he has to stay in front of Torstein. He is the only thing shielding him from these men. He won’t move from his position.

Black Beard aims for his neck and Athelstan barely avoids his axe, forced to crouch in front of them. Now he has to act fast, otherwise he’s already dead. The second warrior hasn’t had time to adjust to his new position, so he hits him in the stomach – hard – with his left axe. The man groans and falls on his side. Before Athelstan can attack again, a boot catches him under his chin and sends him flying on his back. He drops his axes in the process.

“You little shit.” Black Beard grabs him by his hair and forces him to his knees. “We’re done playing.”

Behind them, Torstein moans softly. Athelstan struggles, clawing at the hand holding him.

“Just so you know, once I have killed you, dog, I will take care of him. And he will die slowly, just because of the trouble you caused.”

Athelstan’s despair turns into rage and a new strength takes over him. He bends and pushes forward, hitting the man in the knees with his upper body. The warrior finally lets go of his hair with a surprised gasp and falls on his back. Athelstan has time to get an axe back before Black Beard scrambles back to his feet. Athelstan wants to tell him to back off but he knows it’s useless, so he settles on attacking first. He swings his axe again and again, sometimes manages to hit his target. But he also gets some nasty cuts and this has to end now. Just when he thinks he’s on the verge of gaining the upper hand, a man appears in the narrow street. Athelstan lets a frustrated scream out and quickens his blows. The man is getting closer and he can see who it is. Floki. Athelstan doesn’t know if this is good news or not.

“Ah!” Black Beard exclaims victoriously.

Athelstan’s momentary distraction costs him. The warrior takes advantage and disarms him. He is now fully at his mercy and there won’t be another chance. It’s over. Athelstan discreetly casts a pleading look to Floki, who approaches quietly.

“I will tell Ragnar that you cried like a child when I killed you,” Black Beard sneers.

Floki stops two steps behind him and chuckles. Athelstan closes his eyes.

“And I will tell Ragnar that I laughed when I killed you.”

Athelstan hears the sound of a blade cutting through flesh and a loud thump. He doesn’t feel any pain, maybe he’s already dead, maybe…

“Athelstan!”

He opens his eyes. The warrior is lying dead at his feet and Floki stares at him with concern, axe still in hand.

“Priest? Can you talk?”

“You… I thought you would… thank you” he blurts out.

Floki points at his face.

“Are you hurt?”

Athelstan shakes his head nervously and turns to Torstein.

“No no, but he is. Please help me moving him, he’s going to die, please Floki –”

Floki grabs his chin and forces him to look at him.

“Calm down, priest. I will take care of him with other men. Now go to the Hall, Ragnar needs you.”

“But –”

“I will call you after. Now go,” he insists.

Athelstan nods, casts a last look at Torstein, dreadfully still, and heads for the Hall. On the way, he stops two of Ragnar’s men to send them where Floki is. They stare curiously but at least they don’t question him.

When everything is finally done, Horik dead, as well as his family, Athelstan remains in the great hall, endlessly pacing and waiting for Floki. He’s alone there, Ragnar is with his children and the others are putting everything back in order in Kattegat. After what seems to be hours, days, Floki comes in, at last. He looks exhausted. Athelstan rushes to him.

“How is he? Did he make it?”

Floki raises appeasing hands.

“He is tired, but fine. The wound isn’t that deep. Impressive and painful, but not deadly when it’s properly taken care of. He will live.”

Athelstan sighs with relief. He feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from him, but so weary at the same time. And he starts feeling some little wounds he had forgotten about.

“Can I see him now? I won’t talk, I just need to see him.”

“He will live, Priest, provided you don’t scare him to death.”

Athelstan frowns.

“Just… go wash your face” Floki says with a shrug.

Athelstan finds a bucket full of water and watches his reflection in it. Ah… that would explain all the strange glances he received during and after the battle. His hair has rarely been that tousled, and he certainly still has a bit of a mad look in his eyes. However, his face is the worst. There’s a big handprint of dried blood on the right side of his face, some of it even covering a part of his nose and forehead. His tears have left winding lines in the blood. He looks fierce. Ready to kill. Quickly, Athelstan splashes water on his face, neck and hands. It’s over now, they are safe.

When he is done scratching and washing, Floki puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him silently to Torstein. They had put him in his house – and it is the very first time Athelstan comes in – and Helga is with him, sitting on a stool next to his bed. She also has her baby sleeping in her arms. She greets them with a smile and gets up so that Athelstan can take her place.

“I would be glad if you stayed with him a moment,” she teases. “I can take care of one baby, but two…”

Athelstan could swear that had he not been wounded, Torstein would have barked out a laugh. He still gave a brief – yet broad – smile.

“I am the bravest man you two ever had to take care of” he says. “You just won’t admit it.”

Floki hums happily and draws Helga to his side, leading her outside, eyes already glued to his newborn child. Torstein took Athelstan’s hand, so small compared to his that he could almost completely cover it.

“I was told I owe you a lot, Athelstan.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“Yes, I do. And I thank you for it. Floki told me you stood between me and two of Horik’s men. He also said you looked very wild. One of the fiercest warriors he ever saw.”

Athelstan blushes. Such words from Floki make him feel warm even if he did not tell him directly.

“Of course, I didn’t tell you anything. I fear he would stop tending to my wounds if he knew.”

Athelstan strokes his blond hair affectionately.

“I would have to do it myself then.”

“Would you do one more thing for me?”

Athelstan nods.

“Stay with me tonight? You’re small; you’ll fit in the bed. And Helga can’t disagree, she said I need to stay warm.”

Torstein looks as hopeful as a child pleading for another story before bedtime.

“If she said so…” Athelstan leans and kisses his forehead. “I will stay. As long as you wish it.”


End file.
